


Golden Child

by 64K



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crisis of Faith, FMA AU Week, Gen, Kimblee being Kimblee, The Golden Trio, Uncle!Kimblee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64K/pseuds/64K
Summary: A hasty decision, an impulsive use of "mercy." Now, Kimblee finds the Doctors Rockbell to be indebted to him-- a debt that they attempt to repay by offering unsolicited friendship and counselling.He doesn't like it... it isn't their place to judge his system of morality. Honestly, there's only three reasons that he keeps visiting Resembool: three reasons with golden hair that have made the unwise decision to befriend a heretic.Written for FMA AU Week on Tumblr because I wanted more friendly interaction between Kimblee and the Golden Trio. Oneshot for now, but will probably be continued in the eventual future.





	Golden Child

“When’s he gonna get here, Mummy?”  
  
Mummy looked over down over the counter at Winry, brushing flour off of her hands onto her apron. “I don’t know exactly, Winry, but he did say that he’d try to be here by six at the latest.” Reaching into her apron pocket, she handed Winry a pair of scissors. “Could you go out and cut some flowers? I think that they’d brighten up the house nicely.”  
  
Finally, she was big enough to go out and cut flowers by herself! Winry grabbed the scissors, opening and closing them experimentally. “I’ll be careful,” she said, noticing her mother’s raised eyebrow.  
  
She ran out the door before Mummy could say anything more, dashing round the corner of the house and down the hill. She had seen some pretty lupins just outside of the Elrics’ house, and they seemed like something wonderful to decorate her house with.  
  
Of course, talking to the Elric boys was just a bonus that went along with picking those flowers.  
  
Ed and Al were in the backyard, and were playing on the swing attached to the big tree. Ed was pushing Al, although he wasn’t able to get Al very far off of the ground. Al was almost as tall as Ed now, but Winry was still taller than the both of them (of course, because she was older! It only made sense).  
  
“Hi guys!” Winry screeched, scrambling over the fence and dashing towards them.  
  
“Hi Winry!” Al screeched back, jumping off of the swing with a flying leap. Ed followed behind, more slowly, face serious.  
  
“You smell like apple pie,” he said, deadpan.  
  
Dumb Ed. Of course she smelled like apple pie. Mummy was cooking some, for goodness’ sakes! “ _Obviously_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
“Well, why?” asked Ed, rolling his eyes, grossly exaggerating the face that Winry had just made.  
  
“Because, stupid. Mr. Kimblee’s coming over to visit.”  
  
“He is?” Al gasped. “Can I come over, Winry? Can I? He told me that he’d show me a new alchemy trick next time he came.”  
  
Winry pondered this. “Well. I don’t know about that. He’s going to be busy with me, so I don’t think that he’ll have time for you, Al.”  
  
Al’s shoulders drooped. “Awww…”  
  
“Aw, whatever, Al,” said Ed, rolling his eyes (again… he did that far too often, and he looked dumb while doing it). “I could show you anything that he could.”  
  
“Could not,” said Winry, infusing her voice with as much sassiness as possible. “You’re the worst alchemist ever. And anyway, I don’t see why you don’t like him.”  
  
Ed growled. “He’s weird, that’s why. Everything about him is weird.”  
  
Ed was stupid. He was short, and he was weirder than Mr. Kimblee could ever be, so it really didn’t matter what he said. “Never mind him, Al,” she said, sticking her nose up in the air. “I’ll ask my mum if you can come over. Now, I need to cut some flowers.”  
  
Al and Winry skipped over to the lupins growing in the ditch, discussing which ones were the best to pick. Ed stood obstinately by the swing for several minutes, then, letting out a sigh, slowly loped over to join them.  
  
“This should be enough,” said Winry, arms full of pink and purple petals. “I’ve got to bring these home now, so I’ll see you guys later.”  
  
Winry skipped down the lane towards home, littering petals behind her. She didn’t know whether these flowers would make Mr. Kimblee happy, but it was worth a shot. At least they would make the house pretty--  
  
She crashed straight into the legs of someone in front of her, knocking them both to the ground.  
  
Winry screeched-- her flowers were scattered across the dirt road, stems bent and petals strewn here and there. Her unfortunate victim let out a barely audible hiss, picking himself up and brushing the dirt from his knees. He turned towards her, staring eerily with his pale blue eyes. “You should watch where you’re--”  
  
Winry shrieked with delight, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Mr. Kimblee, you’re here!” The flowers didn’t matter, really; she could always go back and pick more.  
  
Kimblee stared down at her, expression blank. “All done, Winry,” he said quietly. “We’re going to be late.”  
  
Winry let go, stepping back a few feet, confused. “But I missed you.”  
  
Kimblee started walking towards the Rockbells’ house. He looked over his shoulder. “Well, come on, then. Or do I have to leave you behind?”  
  
Winry scurried after him. She didn’t know why he had to be so grumpy all the time. After all, he was her friend, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t that be enough to make him happy?

* * *

  
  
“So, Kimblee; how’s work been going in Central?”  
  
Kimblee set down his glass, nodding slightly towards Yuriy (“Please, call us by our first names,” he’d said early on. “I appreciate your politeness, but there’s two “Doctors Rockbell,” and it quickly gets confusing.”) “It’s going well,” he said. “I’m afraid that I can’t give you very much detail, but suffice it to say that I’m working a little more personally with government personnel than when we first met.”  
  
“Oh, really?” asked Sarah. She poured more juice into Winry’s cup. “And… what sort of work are you doing?”  
  
He couldn’t say it here, obviously. Not in front of the children…  
  
Oh, wonderful. Now he was thinking like _them_.  
  
He smiled. “It’s confidential. But if you really must know, we can talk after dinner after the children are in bed.”  
  
Kimblee watched their reactions. Sarah and Yuriy exchanged glances, then nodded. “We’d love to hear about it,” said Yuriy.  
  
Well, he’d avoided it for now, at least.  
  
The Elric boys were sent on their way without delay after supper was finished. Kimblee tried ruffling Edward’s hair as the tiny boy left-- that was something that children liked, wasn’t it?-- but Edward shoved Kimblee’s hand away, giving him a death glare.  
  
Kimblee had had more success in befriending Alphonse. The boy was full of wide-eyed wonder at essentially anything he did. The smallest alchemical reaction that Kimblee performed was studied by the boy, written down in his notebook to be copied at a later time.  
  
He was an insightful boy-- and so was Edward, in his own way.  
  
And Winry… Kimblee had no idea why she liked him so much. It’s not as if they had any common interests to bond over.  
  
He knew that the Doctors Rockbell had a motive for inviting him over so often, although he wasn’t yet sure what it was, but with Winry, there was no hidden meaning behind her smiles, only a pure sort of joy that he wasn’t sure what to make of.  
  
Sarah got up from the table, and Kimblee saw her making furtive signals towards Yuriy as she gently grabbed Winry by the shoulders, mumbling “time for bed.”  
Kimblee laughed inwardly at their attempts to keep secrets from Winry-- they should know by now, as parents, of all things, that you can’t keep secrets from children for long.  
  
“Now, Kimblee,” said Yuriy, watching over his shoulder as Sarah ushered Winry into her room, “Sarah will be back soon. And then we need to talk. I need to know-- are you improving at _all_?”  
  
Kimblee rested his hands on the table, kneading his fingers together. It was the same every time. “I’m sorry, Yuriy, but I don’t understand your question… and I never have. My _work_ …” he emphasized the word, drawing it out as long as possible, “is not an illness or an injury. It is not a mental condition. You use such words to imply that it is one of those things, and that is inaccurate.” He shook his head, wryly grinning. “I do what I’m told… is that a sin? Really, I feel as though I’m just like you, doing my job. I chose my profession, and I’m living it.”  
  
Sarah had returned, and she pulled up a chair, resting an elbow on the table. “But, Kimblee… _killing_. Killing innocents. It’s not a job for you… it’s a compulsion. And Yuriy and I have hope for you, that you’ll get better. After all, you didn’t kill--”  
  
_This_ again. “I didn’t kill you because I respected your conviction,” he said, for the ten-thousandth time. “Just as I will not abandon my work, you refused to abandon yours.”  
  
“But you did,” said Yuriy, leaning forward. “They told you to kill us.”  
  
Kimblee resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It makes no difference to me what they told me. I only obey orders from the highest tier. The man who told me to kill you was no better than I, so I had no reason to obey him.”  
  
“You can justify it all you like, Kimblee, but you know, in your heart of hearts, that’s it wrong,” said Sarah, standing up from the table. She was talking far too loud for the occasion, Kimblee thought. She’d wake Winry-- “You kill compulsively, you love the smell of blood. And you’re afraid, too, because you’re addicted to it, and, if you couldn’t make others bleed, you would do it to yourself.”

* * *

  
  
He hated coming here, honestly.  
  
Resembool was such a quiet town-- barely more than four or five families, all living happily together, all abiding by the same moral code that he’d never seen the reasoning behind. It was harder to blend in here than in Central, where people from all walks of life lived.  
  
Kimblee couldn’t even call visiting the town official business; of course, if Envy complained (a rare but potentially dangerous occurrence), he’d make the argument that the Elric boys had potential (although, it was a weak argument; really, any alchemist could have potential if they worked hard enough), and it was worth his while to subtly train them.  
  
And, surprisingly, teaching those boys wasn’t _such_ a horrible pastime; they both listened well enough, and Edward’s glee at the simple chemical reactions that Trisha allowed in the kitchen was amusing. The look in his eyes reminded Kimblee of how he’d felt when he was a boy (not so long ago), playing with baking soda and vinegar that he’d ‘borrowed’ from the neighbors, watching it foam all over the basement floor.  
  
But, in general, Resembool was an unwelcoming place, for good reason of course. He didn’t fit into this community of kind people-- the best that he could hope for was continued hospitality as the Doctors Rockbell’s _project_. Everyone here could see through him-- Pinako, Trisha, the shepherds; they all knew he was a heretic; they all knew what he did in Ishval, and how he enjoyed it.  
  
Saving the Doctors Rockbell had been a mistake. He didn’t know why he kept coming back…  
  
“You’re leaving already?”  
  
It was Winry, running up towards him across the wooden boards of the train platform. Her eyes were wide, and she was breathing hard. “You just got here!”  
  
The train was boarding now, and Kimblee really couldn’t spare any time to chat. “I have a job,” he said evenly. “Some business in the north. I’ll probably come back in half a year or so.”  
  
His assurances hadn’t done much good, it seemed; her expression hadn’t changed at all. “Did I do something to make you mad? ‘Cause I’m sorry if I did.”  
  
Whatever had given her _that_ idea? “It wasn’t you,” he said, looking her in the eye. “It’s none of your business, really.” No, she’d honestly done nothing to offend him. It was her parents, treating him as nothing more than a project, a poor deluded soul who wanted reforming…  
  
“It’s my parents, huh?”  
  
Kimblee blinked. How did she...  
  
“I heard you guys arguing last night.” Winry stared up at him, expression somewhere between wistful and worried. “They just want you to be a good person. Maybe they don’t do it in the right way, but they’re happy you saved them, and want to pay you back.”  
  
The last person was boarding the train… “It’s none of their business,” Kimblee said again, watching the man shuffle slowly along the platform, holding onto his cane for dear life. If he was to slip and fall, down onto the tracks, that would be Survival of the Fittest in action… “I’m just doing my job… my work.”  
  
Winry continued to stare. “... Just don’t hurt anybody, okay?”  
  
He had to go. “Goodbye, Winry,” he said, striding towards the train. He let the struggling man with the cane get on first; after all, the whole town would find out if he’d shoved one of the elderly shepherds aside, wouldn’t they?  
  
It was only after the train had been travelling along for half an hour that Kimblee remembered the little present in his pocket that he’d gotten for Winry (or, rather, that Lust had picked out for him; he had no idea what little girls liked): a little box of jewelry of some kind. Ah, well. He’d have to give it to her next time-- or perhaps he’d just mail it.  
  
He didn’t think he’d be back in Resembool any time soon.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is basically an AU of an AU that I haven't written much of yet, in which Kimblee isn't sent to prison, and instead does various jobs for the homunculi. In this case, however, he got to the Doctors Rockbell before Scar had the chance to kill them, thus messing with the timeline even further.
> 
> This is basically inspired by episode thirty-seven of FMA:B, in which Kimblee gets annoyed by the Golden Trio all arguing with each other in the car on the way to search for Scar. I honestly just want more irritated Uncle!Kimblee, and also, every other fanfic that has Kimblee interact with the Golden Trio winds up extremely creepy (although I can't argue with it)... I don't know; I guess I'm in the mood for Wholesome Kimblee stuff.
> 
> Also, Sarah's hypothesis is based off of a fic I read on FF.net called "Obsessive Compulsions" in which Kimblee has OCD, and bloodshed is his compulsion to get rid of intrusive thoughts. I'm not arguing that he definitively has OCD, but I do see him as likely having some sort of mental illness, which is what the Doctors Rockbell are hoping to help him with.
> 
> Not *entirely* happy with the whole tone here (Kimblee feels far too nice and unsure of himself), but I figured that I would be editing it forever otherwise, so I may as well put it up in time for the AU week. I'll probably continue this eventually, if anyone's interested; I'd like to have Kimblee interact with the Elrics a bit more, while Winry was the focus of this section.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! :D


End file.
